Just Another Tuesday
by aLadyofAtlantis
Summary: Still reeling from the events of 'Mystery Spot' (3x11), Sam and Dean take on what looks like a simple case in Clearview, Pennslyvania. However, they aren't the only hunters in town, and while the other hunter seems to know what she's doing, Sam and Dean don't realize this is all part of Lilith's plan.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters. However, any original characters are 100% mine.**

**Author's Note: I wrote this story mainly because I always wanted a female character in Supernatural who was a bad ass hunter who knew what she was doing and in some cases knew more than Dean and Sam. She's also meant to frighten them in some way, hence the reason for her alias.**

**Thanks for reading, and enjoy!**

"What the hell?!" Dean pressed himself against the wall to avoid being shot by rock salt.

A flashlight beam shone right into his face, and both he and his brother Sam covered their faces and turned away.

"No way! Sam and Dean Winchester, is that you?" A female voice called.

"Uhh…" Sam looked over at his brother in the darkness, but he couldn't make out the figure behind the flashlight.

"Sorry for shooting at you- I thought you were a ghost. I haven't seen you guys in forever!" The figure shut off her flashlight, and within moments had enveloped the brothers in a hug.

"Uh, do we know you?" Dean looked at his brother as the figure pulled away.

"One sec." The figure scrambled around in the darkness until she hit a light switch, casting the trio into a soft, warm light.

Dean and Sam both looked at the woman without recognition. She was young- probably around their age, with dark brown hair, green eyes, and a tall, slender, frame, all traits that Dean found attractive. But he didn't recognize her, and his brother didn't seem to either.

"Sorry, I don't think we've met." Sam looked at his brother uncomfortably before facing the woman with a shrug.

The woman, who had looked so pleased only a moment ago, let her smile falter. "Really, guys? You don't remember Toronto? Your first real hunt, Dean?"

Dean looked at Sam, then at the woman, then at Sam again. Who was this woman? When Dean was eight and Sam was four they had been in Toronto, Ohio, and their father had taken Dean with him to kill a ghost, simple garden variety.

"No, sorry, I don't remember you." Sam shrugged again.

The woman chuckled. "You were four, Sam. I don't expect you to." She turned her gaze to Dean. "But Dean, on the other hand… he killed a ghost in my bedroom."

Dean froze. That was her? There had been a little girl in that house, the house in which he had taken down his first spirit. He barely remembered her. He certainly didn't remember her name.

But the woman caught his expression, his stance. "You do remember." Half of her mouth turned up into a grin. "I certainly do. You were my hero. I was a six year old girl, and you were an eight year old taking out ghosts!" Her smile grew, becoming one that stretched across her mouth. "So I grew up and became a hunter."

"So, uh, how do you know who we are?" Sam shifted his weight uncomfortably.

She shrugged. "Word travels. There aren't many hunters out there, and they like to talk."

The trio just stood there for a few minutes, Sam and Dean exchanging uncomfortable glances while the woman watched them adoringly.

"So, uh, what's your name, again?" Sam tried to be polite, but Dean recognized the face he wore when he was really, really, confused.

The woman's frown faded, and she looked down before looking up again. "I don't really tell people my real name. Nothing personal." She put her hands up in a peaceful gesture before continuing. "But you can call me Tuesday, or T for short."

Sam groaned, and Dean laughed. After the events of the Mystery Spot, Dean figured his brother never wanted to hear about that day of the week again. How strange that this woman had chosen that name as her alias.

"What is it?" Tuesday frowned and crossed her arms, gaze flickering between the two boys.

"Nothing. Sam just hates Tuesdays." Dean chuckled again, while his brother threw him a look.

Tuesday kept her arms crossing, nodding even though she didn't really understand how someone could hate a day of the week that much. She had thought choosing a day of the week as her alias was clever, especially since her last name started with a T.

"So, I guess you guys are here to see the crime scene?" Tuesday stepped backwards, her heeled boots not making a sound against the carpeting.

"Yeah. I'm guessing the family's not home?" Sam glanced around the house. They had tried to view the crime scene in the morning, but the house had been crawling with police. They had decided to come get a look later, apparently what Tuesday had planned also.

"No, don't think they wanted to hang around the house where their daughter died." Tuesday turned around and started down the hallway to a staircase. "She died in her bedroom." She started up the stairs, Dean and Sam following behind, though warily. Although she claimed to know them, they knew nothing about her.

Clearly, they were on the same page about trust, because as soon as Tuesday walked into the dead girl's bedroom, she turned around and splashed what was presumably holy water onto their faces. Dean spluttered, unamused.

"Sorry, had to check." She pulled out a silver blade and both boys held their hands out, where she cut them shallowly. She gauged their faces for a reaction, but seeing none, she cut her own palm and then splashed holy water on it.

"Now that that's out of the way, tell us what you know." Dean instructed as he walked over to the bloodstain on the carpet and crouched to inspect it.

Tuesday paced around the bedroom, stopping when she stood next to Sam. "Unusual murder. Throat was slit, hair covered in black stuff that sounded like ectoplasm from the police report."

"It was." Sam cut in as Dean stood. "We checked the body this afternoon." Tuesday nodded in appreciation.

"That's about it." Tuesday shrugged.

Dean nodded, deep in thought. Then he glanced up and realized both Tuesday and Sam were taller than him, Sam naturally, and Tuesday because of her three-inch heels. Rolling his eyes, he took a quick survey of the room. If he hadn't seen the ectoplasm in the dead girl's hair, he wouldn't have thought this was unusual.

"Right. Well, I've already taken a look around, so I'm going to go." Tuesday uncrossed her arms and started walking backwards out of the room. "But hey, we should meet up tomorrow and discuss." She stopped walking and swung her shotgun up to prop on her shoulder.

Sam and Dean exchanged a glance. "Sure, where are you staying?" Sam stuck his hand not gripping his own shotgun into his jacket pocket.

Tuesday's eyes narrowed, but she answered anyways. "The Rose Parlor, room 232. There's a nice restaurant on the first floor- we can grab breakfast around nine."

"Sounds good." Sam smiled without showing any teeth as Tuesday winked before striding out of the room and down the stairs.

Once the boys were certain she was out of earshot, Dean made a what-the-fuck gesture. "Dude, she's staying at the Rose Parlor? That's the nicest hotel in Clearview, Pennsylvania!"

Sam didn't face his brother, instead looking at the doorway the woman had exited. "Yeah. It's four stars." He turned around. "Dean, who is she? Because something doesn't seem right. A hunter who can afford nice hotels? A hunter who chose the life? A hunter with a name like 'Tuesday'? A hunter who looks up to you?"

Dean was nodding with his brother until he said the last bit, raising an eyebrow. "Hey, people look up to me." He said defensively.

Sam echoed his brother's eyebrow raise. "No, they don't, Dean."

Dean pressed his lips together before conceding and brushing by his brother. "Yeah, you're right, they don't."

The two brothers walked out of the dead girl's room and down the stairs, each thinking about the mysterious woman who claimed to know them. Should they trust her? Who was she? And what did she know? Either way, they figured the best thing to do was meet her for breakfast and see how it went.

* * *

12 hours earlier.

"So why are we here again, exactly?" Dean asked his brother as he climbed out of the Impala, biting into a breakfast burrito.

"Brie Samson. 17. Fairly good student, extracurriculars, pretty average girl if you ask me." Sam responded as he scanned the newspaper article announcing the girl's death. "It's just that her head was almost cut off, and her hair was coated in black stuff. Like lathered in it."

"Ectoplasm?" Dean stuffed the rest of the burrito in his mouth before tossing the wrapper into the trashcan by the road of the dead girl's house.

"Possibly." Sam folded up the newspaper and stuck it inside his suit jacket. "That's why we're here."

The Winchesters walked up the driveway of the pale blue house, rather large in size, pausing when they reached the police tape that circle the front yard.

"Can I help you?" One of the many police officers, a short, balding man, came over to them.

"Agents Lifeson and Peart, FBI." Sam whipped out his fake badge as Dean copied his actions next to him.

The police man frowned. "More of you?" He looked behind him at the dozen or so police men wandering around before facing the brothers again. "We already have four of your agents here. Mayor Samson called them."

Dean nodded in understanding. "We're back—"

"We'll be back later, thanks." Sam cut him off, smiling at the officer and leading Dean away from the crime scene.

Once they were far enough away from the police man, Dean yanked his arm out of Sam's hand. "What was that for? I was going to say we were back up, and we could have just strutted in like John Travolta."

"Dean, look." Sam whispered as they approached the Impala. "If the FBI agents are in there, then that means they aren't at the morgue. We can go check out the body without having to worry about them breathing over our shoulders. And then tonight we can come back when there aren't any police around."

Dean nodded, unlocking the car door and swinging it open before sliding in and looking at his brother. "Good thinking, Sammy. Let's go get ourselves a body viewing."

* * *

"So this is what she looked like?" Sam stuck a gloved finger into the victim's hair, picking out a bit of the black goop. Definitely ectoplasm.

"Yes." Dr. Reed nodded. "She was just found dead the night before last. Poor thing, the Mayor's daughter. Everyone loved her."

Dean eyed the doctor. "She didn't have any enemies? No one who wanted to cut her neck like that?" He motioned to the neck of her body as his lip curled. Her neck had been cut so far that the spinal cord was almost severed.

"I can't think of a person." The Doctor shook his head sadly.

Sam covered the girl's head with the sheet and pulled off his gloves with a snap. "Thanks, doctor, you've been a great help."

"I just hope you can find who killed her." The doctor said, rolling the body back into the wall as the brothers walked off, Dean straightening his suit jacket as they did so.

"What do you think?" Sam asked as they climbed into the Impala. "The doctor said no one hated her. No one seems to have a reason to kill her."

"Looks like an angry ghost to me." Dean said, turning the key and letting the car purr.

"But that much ectoplasm? Are we sure that it's just one? Sam looked over at his brother, who continued to watch the road.

"Must have been a really angry ghost. Like Freddy Krueger angry." Dean said with a shrug, glancing at his brother, who was deep in thought.

"Maybe." But Sam wasn't convinced. "Hey, pull over here." He motioned to a tall, brick building. "Let's do some research, see if any townspeople suffered particularly terrible deaths."

Dean obliged, smoothly turning the car into a small parking lot off of the main road. Sam was right- they needed to do research, but not just on the townspeople. The amount of ectoplasm in the girl's hair was frankly terrifying, and Dean wondered whether they were dealing with something other than a classic angry spirit.


	2. Chapter 2

"Dean, what are we even still doing here?" Sam hissed at his brother across the table in the Rose Restaurant, where they were waiting for Tuesday two minutes to nine. "There's another hunter in town, and she seems to know what she's doing. We should be focusing on getting you out of your contract." He was referring, of course, to Dean's deal with the crossroad demon to bring Sam back at the cost of one year to live.

Dean nearly rolled his eyes into his head before pressing his lips together. "Sammy, I've got a year to live, and I'd like to spend it here, okay?" When Sam eyed him skeptically, he amended his statement. "I just need a job that's a bit unusual, alright? And something isn't right with Tuesday." Although neither brother could put a finger on it, instinct told each of them there was more to the ambiguous hunter than she let on.

"Morning, boys." The aforementioned hunter slid into the vacant seat at the square table, knocking her long legs with both Sam and Dean's below. Both brothers shifted, clearly uncomfortable with their legs entwined with hers.

The hunter eyed them both as they shifted out of her leg space, but said nothing on the subject. Instead, she called the waiter over and placed an order of fruit salad and yogurt, handing her menu to the waiter as Sam placed an order of pancakes and Dean placed an order of eggs, sausage, bacon, pancakes, and hash browns.

Once the waiter had left, Dean faced his companions, rolling his eyes at the equivalent expressions on their faces. "What?" He said defensively. Neither of his companions bothered to ridicule him for his choice of a large meal.

Sam ran his eyes briefly over Tuesday's outfit as she absentmindedly tapped her fingers on the table, as if she was playing piano. Her slacks, cream blouse, blazer, and pumps were not all that different than the suits he and his brother were wearing.

"What's with the nice outfit?" Dean asked the questions although Sam had already figured out the answer.

Tuesday brushed a few stray hairs from her slick ponytail out of her face before answering. "I've got a lead. A friend of Brie's. Thought we could check it out after breakfast, if you'd like."

Dean smiled a rueful smile. "Well, we aren't dressed like this for nothing." He motioned to his charcoal suit.

None of the trio spoke again until after the waiter had brought the food. Dean had only made it halfway through his meal before Tuesday set down her empty bowls and spoke.

"So, what have you guys got so far? Any research on particularly vengeful spirits in this town's history?"

Dean was too busy chewing an entire sausage, so Sam answered, swallowing. "Nothing. This town is as boring as watching a clear sky. We went to the library yesterday, and everyone seems to have died a peaceful death."

Dean contributed, having finally swallowed the sausage. "Not true. There have been murders, but nothing typical of an angry spirit."

Tuesday leaned back in her chair, pensive. "I did a bit of research myself, and most of the violent murders were people who were cremated." She cast her eyes down to her lap. "Not enough left to bury in a coffin."

No one had anything to say to that, so for a few minutes the only sound between them was the clink of Dean's utensils as he shoved an assortment of breakfast foods into his mouth. Finally, Tuesday spoke, careful not to meet the eyes of either Winchester.

"Look guys. I know you've been at this all your life, but I know what I'm doing, and if you need to be elsewhere, I can take this one. However," she looked up then, voice growing harder. "While you're welcome to stay, if you do, we're going to do things my way. As I understand, where ever you two have gone, crime scenes have followed."

Sam deliberately looked at his brother, who always seemed to be making more of a mess than what they cleaned up. Dean looked at him innocently, still shoving the last few morsels from his breakfast into his mouth.

Sam blinked and met Tuesday's intense gaze evenly. "Of course. You were here first. We don't want to cause any trouble."

Tuesday narrowed her eyes briefly before standing. "Right then. The bill will go to my room, no worries. I'll just go get my car and meet you guys out front?"

Dean was finishing the last of his hash browns, so Sam was forced to respond again. "Right, thanks." But his words were drowned out by the hustle of the restaurant as Tuesday walked towards the exit, making her way to the underground garage.

Sam eyed his brother, who had finished and was leaning back and rubbing his stomach in content. "Dude, did you have to eat all that?"

"Sammy, we haven't had a decent breakfast in ages. It wouldn't hurt you to pack on a few pounds as well." Dean hoisted himself out of the chair, almost waddling his way outside.

The brothers waited in the Impala, Dean turning the noise of Metallica up as they waited for Tuesday to come around the front of the hotel. Dean whistled appreciatively at a DB9 Midnight Blue Aston Martin, which then honked at them when they passed. Both brothers eyed each other in confusion until the car backed up and the navy-tinted passenger window rolled down to reveal Tuesday in the driver's seat.

"Coming?" The hunter said, but she didn't wait for an answer, speeding off down the street, Dean fumbling with the keys as he tried to stick them in the ignition.

"It's got to be stolen, right?" He said, briefly glancing both ways at the intersection before following the sleek car. "No way a hunter's got a nice car like that."

Sam shrugged. "She is staying at the Rose Parlor." But all the same he pulled out his laptop with its never-ending Wi-Fi, scrolling through the license records in minutes.

Dean glanced at his brother as Sam grimly shut the lid of his computer and shoved it back under the passenger seat. "It belongs to one Tuesday, from New York City." He said, lips pressed into a fake, tight smile.

His brother groaned. "Who gets their name legally changed to a day of the week?"

Sam blinked slowly, raising his eyebrows simultaneously. "Someone who really doesn't want people to know who she is, I guess."

Dean reached into his pocket at the next intersection with a napkin, pulling out a glass. "Lucky I swiped her glass, then. We'll send this to Bobby, have him do a run for fingerprints, see what shows up."

Sam carefully accepted the napkin-wrapped glass from his brother, sliding it into a spare plastic bag. "Might show up as Tuesday again."

Dean nodded, eyebrows popping up once before settling. "Might. Or we might discover the woman behind the mystery."

* * *

As soon as the Aston Martin slowed to halt and pulled up next to the curb in front of a quaint, grey house, Dean rammed the Impala into park, ripping the key from the ignition. He and Sam leapt out of the Impala so fast that by the time Tuesday had leisurely slid out of the driver's seat, he and his brother had her enclosed in a triangle consisting of the brothers and her car.

"Whoa, boys, what's going on?" Tuesday held her hands up in a peaceful gesture, keys still dangling from her right hand.

"Where did you get the money for a ride like that? Pull a Great Train Robbery?" Dean leaned into her face, intimidating but not touching her.

Tuesday's face was a mass of perfect features and confusion. Her eyes darted from Sam to Dean and back again, but realizing they really wanted an answer, she crossed her arms and obliged. "From the money I'm paid, genius. I don't go around robbing banks and trains, thank you very much."

"Paid for what?" Sam's brows furrowed as he asked.

Tuesday eyed the brothers like they were, as Bobby would affectionately say, 'idjits'. "For doing jobs, working cases?" The end of her sentence rose into a question, as she was starting to wonder why this seemed like such a strange thing to the Winchesters. Sure, the Impala wasn't exactly an Aston Martin, but it was a nice car, and she figured they were paid more than enough.

Dean and Sam stepped back from the female hunter, giving her space as she continued to eye them, almost as confused as they were.

"Hang on." Dean raised an eyebrow so high that it almost reached his hairline. "You get paid for being a hunter?"

Tuesday nodded, thinking. From what he was saying, she guessed he didn't. Her boss had told her a bit about the Winchesters, what she didn't know anyways, but she hadn't told her this.

"By whom?" Sam echoed her stance, crossing his arms as well.

"My boss?" Tuesday glanced at them incredulously. Who did they expect to pay her, Hugh Hefner?

"And who's that?" Tuesday pursed her lips at Dean's question. The Winchesters were getting far too intrusive for her liking. Besides, she had no reason to trust them outright.

So she just relaxed her face, taking a deep breath and deciding to handle the situation as maturely and peacefully as possible. "Woman high in the government. Big shot, you know. I've only met her a few times, but by contract the other hunters and I are not allowed to reveal her information or name."

Dean and Sam took her response in several different ways, speaking on top of each other before Dean shut up and let his brother speak. "Government? As in, the government is aware of the supernatural?"

Tuesday leaned back against her car, figuring she was in for a long Q&A session. "Not all of the government. But there are some, like my boss, who do."

"Right, right." Dean nodded. "But you said there were others working like you do?"

Tuesday nodded while biting her lip, wondering how much of the situation she should reveal. "Yeah, about a dozen working for my boss, and there are other bosses with their own set ups. We get calls to check out places, and we do the jobs and get paid."

Dean whistled lowly, and he and his brother took in the information. Then Sam asked the question that they were both thinking. "So, how come we haven't heard about this before?"

"Bosses choose the hunters they like." Tuesday shrugged. "But you two, you're just free spirits. Wouldn't be inclined to do what you're told. So the bosses leave you alone, and keep you out of it. Let you do your own thing." The boys nodded, but Tuesday decided not to reveal exactly what her boss thought of the Winchesters.

Sensing that the brothers seemed to be pacified, at least for the moment, Tuesday stood up straight with a sigh, pulling a badge from her pocket as she made her way up the drive to the quaint house they were parked near.

"So what's our cover? FBI?" Sam said as he and Dean walked behind Tuesday, both shifting through their various badges.

Tuesday stopped and spun around, causing a careless Dean to run into her. She was not amused, but her confusion overruled her annoyance at the moment.

"What do you mean, 'cover'?" But she had a sickening feeling that she knew.

Dean and Sam glanced at each other, before Sam answered. "You know, our story? Why we're rooting around people's houses?"

Tuesday ran her vacant hand across her face, rubbing her eye tiredly before flipping open her badge in the boys' face. "I don't need a cover. I'm a legitimate detective."

Dean and Sam glanced sideways at each other.

Tuesday sighed, before elaborating. "I've heard you two masquerade as FBI and mechanics and friends of the victim, but I don't need to do any of that." She handed her badge to Dean, who inspected it. "I'm a legitimate detective. I went to school, the whole nine yards."

Dean passed the badge to Sam, who also inspected it, and while neither really could tell, they had seen an awful lot of fake badges, and this one looked real.

"I started hunting things on my sixteenth birthday when a ghost showed up at my friend's house and I knew what to do. I kept hunting things and went to college two years early, then worked with the NYPD for three years before being promoted to detective." Tuesday continued. "I was then hired as a consulting detective by my boss, and she gets me government clearance in the cases I work." She paused, taking a breath, before her face hardened. "But don't get me wrong, or count me as a soft college girl. I rarely partied, rarely did much else besides school work and cases with supernatural creatures. Even in NY I took on cases with supernatural traces."

The Winchester brothers didn't meet her intense gaze, humbled by her resolve. Sure, she hadn't been hunting as long as them, but she was a legitimate detective. She did know what she was doing, even if they didn't want to trust her.

"And I know you don't want to trust me, but can you at least try to trust me a bit until you have a reason not to, not the other way around?" Tuesday tried to meet the boys' eyes, but neither would make eye contact.

The trio stood there awkwardly for a minute, a slight gust of wind blowing Sam and Tuesday's hair across their faces. Dean pretended to fumble through his badges and Sam focused on his hair in his face, and Tuesday, sensing their discomfort, sighed and crossed her arms.

"Right. Well, we can't make you detectives now, so I guess you'll have to masquerade as FBI." She flipped her ponytail out of her face and walked backwards, turning slowly until she made it up the front steps, knocking on the door.

A dark-haired and chocolate-skinned girl around Brie Samson's age answered the door. A tall boy, almost Dean's height, was standing behind her, his pale skin a contrast with his dark hair.

"Can I help you?" The young woman asked, leaning warily against the doorframe.

Tuesday flipped open her badge. "Detective Tuesday. These are FBI Agents James and Taylor." She motioned to Sam and Dean in turn. "Are you Zara Wilkes?"

The girl nodded, absentmindedly pulling on her low ponytail draped over her shoulder. "Yes." Her reply was hesitant.

"We're here about Brie Samson, the Mayor's daughter. We understand you were a friend of hers?" Tuesday watched as both Zara's face and the face of the boy behind her contorted into a mix of pain and understanding.

Zara took a deep breath, sticking her hands in her pockets before motioning to the tall boy behind here. "This is Aaron Jackson, my boyfriend. We were both friends of Brie's. Come on in."

She and Aaron stepped out of the way, allowing the Winchesters and Tuesday to pass by her and into the house. Sam threw Dean a glance as they walked into the living room, glancing around. For all their adolescent innocence, something was strange about the two teenagers. Perhaps it was the fact they lived alone in a nice house at this age, or perhaps it was something more sinister.

* * *

Dean glanced around Zara's bedroom. It looked like the bedroom of an average teenage girl, posters, pictures, textbooks. Except it was too clean. Like she had expected someone to be looking around her room And something about that bothered him.

"She seemed awfully okay with us taking a look around. A bit suspicious, isn't it?" Sam said, lifting the full mattress with ease and looking between the mattress and box springs.

Tuesday paced around the bedroom, taking everything in, until she stopped at a bookshelf. Sam and Dean watched as she ran a hand across the bookshelf, stopping on a black book that she pulled out and held up to the boys.

"What?" Dean and Sam gazed at the plain book in confusion. The title was that of a typical scientific textbook, but they gasped when Tuesday spread the pages.

"It's been rebound into a science textbook." She ran a hand across the worn pages. "It's a book of witchcraft." The brothers stepped closer, Sam taking the book gingerly and flipping through the pages and diagrams while Dean looked over his shoulder.

"So we're dealing with a ghost and a witch, then?" Dean continued to watch Sam and the book as Tuesday wandered over to Zara's desk.

"Not a witch." She turned around and faced them. "A coven."

Sam and Dean looked up from the book, confusion crossing their faces. "What?"

Tuesday raised her eyebrows. "Didn't you see Aaron's necklace? It was a classical witch ruin charm."

The brothers glanced at each other. How had they missed that?

"Plus, I found hex bags in Brie's house, and some materials for more. She was in on it." Tuesday flipped through a few pages on Zara's desk.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. You found hex bags and we didn't know? When did you find them? We were there with you. Also, why didn't you tell us?" Dean asked, rage causing him to advance on her with an expression that distorted his pretty features.

"Do I have to tell you everything?" Tuesday rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "You aren't my boss, and you can't expect me to trust you completely."

Dean sniffed unappreciatively, but she had a point.

"Also, I went into Brie's house and surveyed the crime scene the morning before I ran into you two, and found the bags." Tuesday was so completely nonchalant that it annoyed Dean.

"Wait." Sam broke in. "Then why were you there at night?" The brothers had broken in to avoid clashing with the local police, and they had assumed she had as well.

"Looking for the ghost, obviously. Like you guys." She raised an eyebrow in a very judgmental manner, and Sam didn't bother to explain they had broken in. They didn't need any more condescending looks.

Dean stepped back and fell in line with his brother as they took the new information in. Not only were they looking at a very confusing case with a ghost and witches, they also couldn't trust this hunter to reveal everything that she knew.

Tuesday clenched her jaw like she knew what they were thinking, and strode up to the boys, her heels placing her at a height between Sam and Dean that was intimidating. "Look, I know you don't want to trust me because I don't tell you everything, but you really should try. You two haven't been completely honest with me, either, and I don't expect you too. This business comes with a certain level of secrecy." She clamped her mouth shut for a second, keeping down harsher words.

"But let me tell you something. I trust you boys, I really do. Which is why I haven't killed Sam yet." She continued on before Dean or Sam could speak, confusion dropping their jaws in protest. "There's a price on your heads, both of you, but especially Sam. My boss and others want you two dead, or at the very least Sam. It's kill on sight. But I haven't, and you know why?" Her voice began to tremble as emotions besides anger began to surface.

"Because you are my hero, Dean Winchester. I got into this business because you saved my life as a child, a girl you didn't know. And I figure if you can save a stranger, you deserve a chance. So I haven't killed your brother, because I owe you. I owe it to you to get to know you, to help you, and to protect you." She took a deep breath, rocking back and forth a bit, before she shook her head and cast her intense gaze back on Dean.

"So you can work with me on this, or you can work against me. But let me warn you, working against me will not be pretty." And with that, she spun around and walked out of the door purposefully, leaving two very confused brothers behind.


	3. Chapter 3

A knock at her hotel room door caused Tuesday to set down the gun she was cleaning, pick up another, and make her way cautiously to the door. When she looked through the peephole and saw two familiar faces, she heaved a sigh and shoved her pistol into the back of her sweatpants.

"Can we come in?" The two Winchester boys looked at her, pleading expressions on their faces, as she opened the door and leaned against the doorframe.

"You can stay out there and talk, or you can leave." Tuesday's tone was clipped. While she understood hunter's paranoia, she thought she deserved a little benefit of the doubt.

Sam and Dean sighed in unison, Dean running a hand over his mouth while Sam ran a hand through his luscious hair. "Look, we came to apologize, but if you want to make it hard, we don't need too." Dean was not very good at apologizing, it seemed.

Tuesday clenched her jaw, but said nothing.

Sam looked at his brother quite exasperated, but spoke in a much nicer tone of voice. "We're sorry for not completely trusting you. We don't trust anyone, not even each other most of the time." He ran a hand through his hair uncomfortably again. "We'd like to do this case with you, and we've got some leads, if you'd like to discuss."

"Don't you have a contract to break?" The words slipped out of the female hunter's mouth before she could stop them. She was tired of these boys being so condescending and distant. She was done playing nice- she could be whole lot meaner.

Dean and Sam spared each other a glance before Dean got close in her face as his upper lip twitched. "How do you know about that?"

Tuesday shrugged. "My boss knows a lot of things, and sometimes she tells me them."

Dean didn't back out of her face, studying her eyes, his eyes flipping back and forth between her equally green orbs. This mystery boss knew a little too much for his liking.

"Look, I'm sorry." Tuesday stuck her hands into the huge pockets of her sweatpants and ambled backwards into the vast hotel room. "I know you guys want to help on this case, so come in."

Sam obliged easily with a nod, but Dean only straightened and cast his gaze down his nose, still remaining outside. It wasn't until Tuesday and Sam had made it to the far side of the room where a large table laden with various weapons was positioned that Dean finally stepped inside and closed the door.

When he turned around, however, he was floored by the room. Clearview, PA might be a tiny town, but a four-star hotel was a four-star hotel. The main area was twice as large as any motel room he had ever been in, two queen beds side by side against one wall, a long maple table on the opposite side of the room by a glass division, where Sam and Tuesday stood by. There was a walk in closet, a large screen television, a glorious bathroom with white marble, and two luxurious couches. As Dean drew closer to Sam and Tuesday, he noticed the closet door was open, so he surreptitiously peeked inside. He had just caught an eyeful of lingerie, short dresses, and a lot of black when Tuesday cleared her throat meaningfully and shut the closet door.

Sam gave his brother an unamused look before sliding his laptop out of his bag and flipping open the top. "So yesterday, after you left Zara's house, we hung around and did some questioning. Managed to get a bit out of Zara and Aaron." He swung his body to face Tuesday, who was leaning lazily against the glass division, repeatedly switching between fiddling with her jean jacket and her charcoal cashmere scarf.

"It seems the entire coven consists of teenagers with dead family members, so they took up witchcraft to talk to them as ghosts. Originally they almost tried necromancy, but a lot of the spells require replacing a life for a life, so they didn't take that far."

"But they wouldn't tell us who else was in their coven." Dean chimed in in a grumpier and lower voice than usual. He didn't like people knowing his personal business.

"Yeah, well." Sam nodded. "Anyways, they claim that's all they've been doing, but we think they might have accidently summoned something bigger than they could handle, something that possessed and killed Brie."

Tuesday nodded, chewing her lip pensively. It did make sense. Summoning a ghost on accident that did not want to be summoned could leave that much ectoplasm residue.

"Aaron said that before Brie's head went like Marie Antoinette's, she had been acting strange, suggesting they summon demons and control them." Dean shifted his position, leaning against the wall opposite the glass division.

Tuesday groaned. "So if she was successful, we could have witches, ghosts, and demons on our hands."

"Maybe." Sam flipped through a few webpages. "But I don't think they were ever successful with the summoning of demons." He found the page he was looking for, the local Clearview High School front page. "However, we think the ghost could be possessing another member of the coven, but we don't know who is in the coven."

"I do." Tuesday grinned, a snarky half-grin that she hadn't had opportunity to wear for a while.

Dean and Sam's brows furrowed in equal puzzlement. Tuesday's grin stretched into a full, more meaningful smile. "What? You think I sulked about a couple of hunters not trusting me all of yesterday and all of today?"

She slid into the seat next to Sam and opened a copy of the online yearbook, flipping to the sophomore class page from the year before. "I did some undercover research at the high school yesterday and today, and found out the names of the rest of the coven." She scrolled until she found a picture of one of the people she was looking for.

Sam glanced at her sideways. "Wouldn't Zara and Aaron have recognized you?"

"I don't think so." Tuesday bit her lip thoughtfully before winking at him. "Not with blonde hair and blue eyes, anyways." She nodded to her huge closet. "As Dean might have noticed, I have a wide variety of disguises."

Dean looked at the closed closet with a whole new level of appreciation. Sam and he had always stayed away from disguises, but they had seen it work for Bela. Thinking of the occult conwoman, Dean stood up straight and wandered closer to Tuesday.

"You know what else I noticed, Tuesday? Your fingerprints are burned off." The boys had sent her glass over to Bobby, and he called them with the results the next morning.

Tuesday's head snapped up. She avoided either Winchester's gaze, but when both deliberately continued to look at her, she finally swallowed heavily and graced them with an answer. "Well, yes, it's quite helpful to not leave behind a trace when visiting questionable crime scenes. You boys should really try it. Could help with your track record." She tacked that last bit on smugly, trying to draw the attention away from herself.

When neither Winchester answered, only sparing each other a pensive glance, Tuesday returned her attention to the laptop, nodding towards the image she had centered on. "Eli Carter, member of the coven." She kept scrolling, and Dean came around behind her to get a better look at the dark skinned and dark haired boy before his image passed on. "Willa Madison." Dean and Sam caught a glance at a petite curly-haired girl before Tuesday stopped again. "And Janey Porter. There were six in all, Zara, Aaron, Brie, Eli, Willa, and Janey." Dean seared the image of the voluptuous dirty-blonde girl in his memory before stepping around to his former position.

"So there are three of them, and three of us. Sam, you take Eli, Tuesday, you take Willa, and I'll take Janey." Dean waved for Sam to follow him, and he did so, closing the laptop and jumping up to catch up to Dean, who was at the door.

"But, Dean." Tuesday didn't bother making a move, just sitting at the table, head resting on her hand, thinking. "This is actually perhaps more dangerous than it might at first seem."

"How do you mean?" Dean held open the door as he and Sam turned around and waited for her response.

"Think about it. When a person dies, the soul either is reaped or it remains. When it is reaped, it moves on and is laid to rest. Bringing it back to ghost status would make it quite angry." Tuesday brushed stray hair out of her face.

Dean nodded thoughtfully, and Sam echoed the nod with perhaps more vigor, but it was Tuesday who spoke again. "Just, please watch yourselves. Don't walk into this all macho and cocky and end up getting yourselves screwed, alright?"

Dean snorted and stalked out, Sam not far behind, but Tuesday was actually quite serious. Boys like the Winchesters, with years and lifetimes of experience, often got too over confident and got them into more trouble than was needed. She too, snorted, as the door to her lush hotel room swung shut.

* * *

Dean watched his brother silently slide into the car in front of Willa Madison's house. Seeing as they had only one car between the two of them, Dean had dropped Sam off before heading off to Janey's house, and now, after finishing, was picking him up.

"Any luck?" Sam looked over at his brother hopefully.

"Probably not any more than you." Dean grunted, not looking away from the street in front of him.

Dean watched in his peripheries as Sam pulled something out of his pocket, and held it up in his face. "Did you find this?"

Dean did a double-take when he saw the yellow powder in the clear plastic bag. "Sulfur?" He said indignantly, swaying to look at the road beyond the bag.

Noticing Dean trying to look around the bag, Sam lowered it with an apology, but then faced his brother with renewed vigor. "You know what that means. Demons. And Zara and Aaron did say Brie was talking about summoning demons for their use. I found it in her bedroom, but she certainly wasn't possessed when I was there. I tried a couple things."

Dean clenched his jaw. They certainly did not need an ambiguous Tuesday, a coven of witches, demons, and a very angry spirit.

"So there was a demon hanging around Willa. What does that mean? Was she possessed at some point before?" Dean spared a short glance at Sam.

Sam shook his head thoughtfully. "No. Well, yes. But not possessed by a demon. Maybe possessed by the ghost, who then summoned the demon. This ghost seems intent on brewing a lot of trouble."

"Okay, but to what end?" Dean rolled the thought around in his head and his tongue around in his mouth. "And I guess that's a possibility, but what I don't get is if this is a parent or loved one brought back to ghost status, why would they possess the coven? Something doesn't add up. They know these kids- Clearview isn't very big, they'd know them well and wouldn't possess them."

Sam and Dean each thought silently for a while before Sam offered a half-hearted answer. "Maybe some loved one is possessing a coven member who isn't related to them?" But both he and Dean knew somehow it all didn't add up. Luckily, they were on the way to the library to meet up with Tuesday, who hopefully would have better answers.


End file.
